


it's who you're doing them with

by Spooky_Skittles



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Human Names, M/M, Money Husbands, One Shot, Out of Character, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spooky_Skittles/pseuds/Spooky_Skittles
Summary: Maybe it was the fuzzy warmth in his heart while observing him, or tiredness, that made him decide that he wanted to make him breakfast in bed, just like in the cheesy movies they watched together.
Relationships: Libcap, Libertarian/Ancap
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	it's who you're doing them with

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from the song cecily smith by will connolly. its a lovely song and i think it fits them v much. give it a listen!  
> also im using the human names bc they are very much underrated. enjoy the fic

Jack wakes up to the sound of birds outside the large window, curtains drawn, small glints of the morning sun passing through. His husband is snoring, his breathing even and calm. Careful not to wake him from his deep slumber, he moves the blanket away to sit on the edge of the king sized bed, and drowsily steps into a pair of designer slippers he ordered from Italy on their trip last summer.

It felt like a lifetime had passed from when he had first met Lawrence, at first just another asset in his plan, now the most precious person in his life, the only one he would sacrifice everything material for. Maybe it was the fuzzy warmth in his heart while observing him, or tiredness, that made him decide that he wanted to make him breakfast in bed, just like in the cheesy movies they watched together.

And so, he stood up, not before giving his lover a quick forehead kiss. Silently, he walked out the door and into the long hallways of their third mansion. He was fond of this one in particular, as he had decorated every square meter by himself. As he walked past the rooms of the second floor, the man slowly began feeling more and more awake. Finally, he reached the grandiose marble staircase and walked down, cautious with his steps.

Today, the personal chef they had hired was on vacation, which left the kitchen entirely empty and available to him. He thought of making his husbands favorite: souffle pancakes with (an appropriately named) billionaires bacon, along with some coffee and fresh berries. He had never cooked by himself in his entire life, always being able to rely on maids or servants, but it probably wasn’t that hard to anyways. He had watched enough cooking shows to know what it was all about.

Besides, how hard can it truly be?

**\---**

Turns out it _is_ hard. For someone with zero cooking experience. At first, everything was fine. Jack had decided to focus on the pancakes, eyeballing most of the ingredients. That bad decision led to the batter being too floury, which he didn’t want, obviously, so he added some milk. The mix was still too dense, but he assumed it would even out, somehow.

Once the mix was put together and ready to be cooked, he turned on the stove and started to prepare the bacon on a tray, too eager to finish before Lawrence woke up. In a rush, he plopped a scoop of the pancake batter unceremoniously, and then another, before putting a lid on the pan just like the blog he got his recipe from had explained.

The berries were served, so he hadn’t messed that up. His mind betrayed him, however, and he got distracted by his own thoughts, that hung over him like that expensive chandelier did on their living room.

That, and his phone. Oops.

Putting a timer on would have been a good idea, because the fire alarm was suddenly ringing at an extremely loud volume. The oven had been on for longer than it should’ve, bacon now practically turned to dust and heavy smoke coming from it. He panicked, and quickly sought to undo the damage.

“You won’t burn down my precious kitchen, you dumbass machine! This cost hundreds of dollars and it is _not_ going to waste!” the tall man sounded borderline hysterical, fire extinguisher in one hand, clean cloth on the other.

He went at it then, when he heard frantic steps running downstairs. Shit.

“Jack, are you alright?! What is going on?” Lawrence called, voice distant. He replied, trying to sound calm “Yeah, everything is fine honey! I just need to-” The sounds coming from the fire extinguisher interrupted his sentence. That didn’t seem to call his partner down, whose pace became more agitated than before, if such a thing was possible.

The libertarian ran inside the kitchen, and _god_. He had never been this embarrassed in his entire life. He felt like a child, like he was unable to fend for himself even for the simplest of things. Shame was bubbling up in his stomach. The foam was all over the place, making the man even more bashful and guilty. He tried to explain himself.

“I was- I just wanted to do something nice for you and-” he was silenced by a giggle, then another, and then full blown cackling. Lawrence was laughing.

Wait, Lawrence was laughing?

After the initial confusion, he couldn’t _not_ join in. His laugh was as contagious as it was vibrant. The fit of laughter lasted a few minutes, and his stomach was no longer filled with dread and shame, instead, it hurt from all of the laughing. The walls of the house made the noise bounce back into their ears.

They slowly calmed down, and the moderate was the first to speak. “Why didn’t you say so? I could’ve helped,” his smile was still giddy, but sincere. He closed the distance and stroked Jacks’ cheek with one hand, before continuing. “It was adorable of you to try and do this, I appreciate it a lot. But please, leave the cooking to me next time, sweetheart.”

A dopey grin made its way onto his face. Only Lawrence could swoop in and turn this almost catastrophe into a cute little memory. He put his hand over his partners', and lowered it to kiss his knuckles one by one. “Love you,” he whispered against them. And he truly did.

Which was not really a secret, but it felt like one, in the air of an early morning.

“Love you too,”his husband replied, gazing at the other man with the exact same _thing_ in his eyes. You know, the stare. It was as personal as it was universal. “Now, let’s clean this up, shall we?”

**\---**

And they did, playing a couple of vinyls in the background while attempting to get rid of the remaining foam-like chemical that was practically everywhere.

The pancakes were thrown out, as they had been overcooked while Jack was trying _not to burn his fucking house down._ But the disaster that had just taken place didn’t stop them. Once they got rid of all the trash caused by this, they went back to the now safe kitchen to start from scratch, this time, together. Sure, they could’ve ordered some McBreakfast, but that wouldn’t be fun.

The couple was still sleepy and a bit tired from the cleaning, so they didn’t think about it too much. Toast with some coffee, jam and butter, as well as the aforementioned berries (the only survivors of the Kitchen Massacre) made for the best breakfast he had hadin a very long time. Not due to the quality of the plates, but due to how it had been made. It’s not about what you cook, it’s about who you cook it _with_.

“Lawrence, could you pass the butter, please?”

**Author's Note:**

> yup this whole thing was inspired by the final line which can be found in an onlyfans video, apparently. ironic considering this is fluff x1000.
> 
> ty to dad (@jregjuevara on twt!) for inspiring me to do this i needed to write them <3
> 
> twitter: cosmixseul  
> tumblr: goblin-enbyz


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